A STORY". OF. TRUTH 



By LURA M. ACKERMAN 




Class 

Book A 



/-**• i 



7 



S 



CopigM - 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



BEING LED 

A STORY OF TRUTH 

by 
LURA M. ACKERMAN 



A uthor of T)a$s of Grace, Rose Petals, 

The Lesser Children, Chubby 

and others 




THE MUTUAL PUBLISHING CO. 

786 BROAD STREET 
NEWARK, N. J. 



4> 






Copyright, 1917 

BY 
LURA M. ACKERMAN 



APR 13 1917 
©Q.A457929 



Dedicated 

To The Memory of 

MY MOTHER 

The Dearest Ever 

Because She Was Mine 



PREFACE 

Dear Reader: 

I will not give a sketch of my life in this nar- 
rative; will defer that until some future time. It 
will be interesting in many respects tracing my 
ancestry to the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, 
on the maternal side, and the landing of the Hu- 
guenots, on the paternal. Also episodes in my 
individual life in consequence of mongrel tenden- 
cies, always leaning toward the strength of char- 
acter possessed by my Welsh ancestry, the love 
of the beautiful and ideal in nature creative, 
abounding in spiritual qualities; a high-spirited, 
sensitive nature from my French and Scotch an- 
cestry, reasoning powers, head-strong tendencies 
from the Holland, all mellowed into a rounded 
out life. Influenced and "Being Led" by power 
Divine, through paths thorny and rough, into 
those more flowery and smooth, thence to the high 
road of spiritual thinking, always "Being Led," 



realizing the leading to quiet pastures green, al- 
ways green and fresh with thoughts of Love, 
Truth and Peace. I have also been led to write 
this book for you, my first written experience of 
"Being Led" through four seasons of the year 
nineteen hundred and fifteen. 

That you may feel the inspiration of "Being 
Led," as I was, is the earnest wish of the author. 
"The root of all knowledge is the knowledge 
of God. Glory be to Him! All other knowl- 
edge is impossible save through His manifes- 
tations." 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I — Preliminary 9 

II — Dreams and Visions .... 11 

III — Perspective and Prospective . 13 

IV — Prospective Plan 17 

V — Moving Day ...... 20 

VI — Getting Settled 24 

VII — Little House or My Dreams . 28 

VIII — Night and Morning .... 39 

IX — Friends and Acquaintances . . 44 

X — Mothers and Daughters ... 49 

XI — Entertaining Friends ... 53 

XII — Autumn Days 57 

XIII — Renovating and Moving . . 60 

XIV — Sundays and Shadows ... 63 

XV— The Day and Trip . ... 66 

XVI — Home Again 74 



BEING LED 



i 

PRELIMINARY 

IT IS seldom we hear of a maiden speech or a 
first book written after one passes the meri- 
dian of life, or reaches the * 'Youth of Old Age," 
but the idea was conceived and given birth in the 
short period of twenty-four hours — just a day. 

I must admit my love for composition in my 
school days. I recall the last Friday of each 
month, when we were obliged to compose a story 
or an adventure, real or imaginary, in the short 
period of an hour, each one to be read aloud. 
A committee of three was chosen from the class 
to select the best from the boys, and another 
from the girls, these to be written in the monthly 
school paper, and read at the public entertainment 
given quarterly in the Assembly Hall. 

I was very happy to hear my composition 
read often. We did not know whose had been 
chosen until that day. Often when reading a 

9 



10 BEING LED 

book, my aspirations would soar to thoughts so 
pure and beautiful that I would then think of 
making an attempt, but every-day duties and 
pleasures would deluge these pearls of thought 
for a time. Like everything we enjoy, that 
tempts us again and again, so this idea of writing 
a book has lured me on until it has me a captive, 
inveigled me, as it were, to write. I might have 
written long ere this, but it needed the last two 
years of my life, the awaking to the marvelous 
Light that has burst upon the world within these 
last days, spoken of in Scripture. 

• "When Knowledge shall cover the earth as 
the waters cover the sea, this Light, when cast 
on the mirrors of the wise, gives expression to 
wisdom ; when reflected from the minds of artists, 
it produces manifestations of new and beautiful 
arts; when it shines through the minds of stu- 
dents it reveals Knowledge and unfolds myster- 
ies." This light has so permeated my soul and 
revealed what Truth and Reality is, that evidences 
have crossed my path daily — almost hourly — of 
beauty, and goodness in all things under the sun. 



BEING LED 11 

Would you know where to find this Light? 
Turn your face to the East, as the Wise Men 
of old, who followed the star, "Being Led*' to 
the manifestation of God's Love. 



II 

DREAMS AND VISIONS 

'""THE young man shall dream dreams, and 
the old men see visions," the good book says. 
I will change this latter part to old women. 
They say we must never admit age, which is 
not difficult to do if the heart stays young and 
the mind remains responsive to the best things 
of the age in which we are living. Oh, if every 
one knew that this is God's day! He is proving 
who are His. Everything that has been prophe- 
sied has been fulfilled. 

Well, I am young enough to dream dreams, 
and old enough to see visions. The one dream 
of a part of my life, culminating in a vision, oc- 
cult, spiritual and sublime, was clarified by opti- 



12 BEING LED 

mistic reasoning, inherited as I have told you 
from my Holland ancestry, who are noted for 
their perseverance, thrift and endurance. 

The dream of a "bungalow" began to frame 
itself into a vision so beautiful that years could 
not efface it. I'll tell you the vision. A Cali- 
fornia bungalow, not "built for two," as the song 
runs, — "Big enough for me and Rosy, where the 
red, red roses grow," but large enough for com- 
fort, all on one floor. A living room, one double 
bedroom and one single, bath, kitchenette, a large 
roomy porch; to be built on some knoll, eleva- 
tion about six hundred feet above the level — not 
so secluded that we felt away from all civiliza- 
tion. 

To find a suitable location an hour from the 
Metropolis, three or four minutes from the rail- 
road station. This is where one could pass the 
summer season, and spring if so desired, in com- 
fort and ease, in God's free air, a tone to nature, 
that one needs. 

How much we do to keep this temple, in 
which is God's throne, beautiful and healthy. It 



BEING LED 13 

is His, only loaned to us, as is everything ma- 
terial, to serve Him. Let us learn this prayer 
and repeat it each day: 

"Oh, my God; Thy name is my healing; 
Thy remembrance is my remedy; Thy love 
is my companion; Thy mercy is my need 
and my aid in the world and in the Day of 
Judgment. Verily Thou art the Knower 
and the Wise.*' 



Ill 
PERSPECTIVE AND PROSPECTIVE 

"*\EAR friend; let me call you friend, as I ex- 
pect to become very well acquainted ere 
you have finished reading this book, so well ac- 
quainted that we shall exchange confidences, I 
am sure. 

The Perspective of my vision came next. I 
could see bungalow, the size plot, the knoll, the 
beautiful view, in my mind's eye — through the 



14 BEING LED 

vista of difficulties, obstacles, censure, and the 
absolutely necessary wherewithal. 

Would you believe it, they all melted as dew 
drops. When the glorious rays of the morning 
sun appear, even the wherewithal appeared in 
a most miraculous way. I bided my time, al- 
ways "Being Led." Strange to say, I was in- 
vited to spend a few days at the home of a rela- 
tive at T . Just a word in commendation 

of him, and his beautiful wife, both young; he, 
the sturdy little New Englander, full of ambition, 
alive to everything in the business world, an eye 
for the beautiful and the growing hand, as it 
were; his home, surrounded by a well-kept gar- 
den, whose flowers show culture and extreme 
care, the row of choice roses down each side of 
the front pathway seemed the largest and most 
beautiful I had ever seen. The vegetable garden 
— you should have seen it! The little peach or- 
chard, all kept so neat and beautiful, that your 
heart responds to the beauty by praise. 

Let us see the wife ; she is only twenty-three, 
but the mother of two beautiful boys, one five 



BEING LED 15 

years and the other eight months old. Her 
face, that of Grecian type, any one who might 
study it a few moments would suggest for an 
artist, the beautiful sparkling, brown eyes, the 
cherry lips, a veritable "cupid's bow,** olive com- 
plexion, a brow surrounded by the most luxuriant 
brown tresses, so heavy that it might be the envy 
of many a maid of these days — so glorious and 
womanly, a domestic, self-sacrificing mother; 
firm and discreet with her boys, who will in after 
years manifest self-reliance and confidence in 
mankind. 

Pardon my taking you into this little by-path 
of intelligence ; I want you to become acquainted 
with all who have added a day's interest in my 
plans. How we realize "Being Led*' not only 
four seasons of a year, but the four seasons of our 
life. 

Have you ever wondered how, or tried, to 
master a situation? Why I crossed this path? 
How did I happen to meet this dear friend? Take 
my advice, and do not try; you cannot fathom 
these conditions. Just sum it up in these two 



16 BEING LED 

words, "Being Led" to this situation or that, the 
meeting of a congenial person, or otherwise, as 
beyond our control. We only know we have 
met, and it must be right, as we had nothing to 
do with planning the meeting — it was planned 
for us. 

Now for the Prospective. The visit was an 
enjoyable one. Our motor ride over the coun- 
try, affording the necessary prospect for bunga- 
lows, galore. We gleaned this information: A 
few plots left, the only one I wanted almost sold. 
Providence meant I should have it, as you will 
see. 

We returned after a most delightful visit, 
with hope high ; almost had it built and furnished 
(womanlike) before we were sure of anything. 

"Every bird seeks a nest, and each nightingale 
desires the beauty of the flowers, but the birds 
of the minds of men are content with mortal dust, 
and are far from the Eternal Nest." 



IV 
PROSPECTIVE PLAN 

IT WAS Socrates who said, "Know Thyself." 
You would think a woman with such little wis- 
dom would not attempt to add to or take from 
this grand philosopher's wisdom, but if you will 
pardon my apparent arrogance, I will add to this 
old saying, — Know thyself, and then forget your- 
self. 

It seems a paradox, does it not? First get 
acquainted with your real self; if you do, you 
will find you are a good sort of a fellow after all. 

It is not necessary to flatter; it may bring 
conceit, but pat yourself on the back; you de- 
serve it sometimes. Then when you cannot 
agree with all the good things, self says to you, 
do not argue, for arguing carries one beyond pa- 
tience. If you do this, it will help your real self 
so to train you and lead you that, marvelous to 
relate, you will have such confidence and trust 
in that dear, good self (which is you), that ab- 
solute forgetfulness of the other timid selfish 

17 



18 BEING LED 

person we thought we were, fades away and we 
are confidently reassured of success. 

Knowing by this time that our other self is 
none other than God within. 

Oh, the joy experienced in knowing our re- 
ality is spiritual and to be depended upon. Then 
we forget the unreal, the consciousness of the 
old self, only seeing and feeling the truth that 
looms up in all things in this world. As a ship 
looming up at sea in the darkness, is passed by 
the light of the intelligence of the mariner so we 
must master the old self that is in darkness. 

Back to prospective plans these beautiful 
thoughts multiply until I forget and am lost, soar- 
ing in unlimited space of that greatest force, — 
thought. 

Oh, joy, the wherewithal! The deal closed 
— ideas exchanged — plans drawn — my relative 
to superintend the building. 

Don't you love to see those blue prints? 
Aren't they fascinating? Those little white 
marks designating so many feet and inches, so 
often deceiving us in size. 



BEING LED 19 

I'll tell you the plans, for fear you have for- 
gotten : A Dutch door, with hinges and knocker, 
concrete platform with brick risers, three steps, 
a concrete chimney — built on the outside; shin- 
gles in light brown, the upper part, concrete the 
lower; a living room — good size, with several 
windows, a long French one, a Dutch concrete 
chimney, with open fire place; two bed rooms, 
one double, one single; bath room, kitchenette; 
a beautiful porch nine feet wide, with two sides 
meeting at corner. 

I'm not going to tell you any more; as soon 
as it is finished you must come with me and tell 
me what you think of it. 

Who would think I could have confidence 
enough in myself, and trust others, to carry out 
all the details in the building, pay bills, cash 
checks — just like any other business woman. 

Well, I did, and so could you if you will con- 
fide in your real self while you are * 'being led." 

"Thy heart is my home; purify it for my de- 
scent. Thy spirit is my outlook; prepare it for 
my manifestation." 



V 

MOVING DAY 

YV/OULD you believe it; it's all finished, ex- 
cepting some of the plumbing! The last 
time I saw it I could not help thinking what a 
fortunate woman to have succeeded in carrying 
out all plans, and here, just adjoining my cous- 
in's property is my plot, on a knoll surrounded by 
the dearest cedar trees. They will have to be 
cleared out some. A most beautiful view of the 
mountains, which are the most velvety green in 
this Spring season, bidding fair to be a beautiful 
verdant summer. 

How my heart throbs with joy in anticipa- 
tion of how a few weeks' work could transform 
these grounds to a garden of blooms and wind- 
ing paths, cedars forming a half circle on one 
side, and a bit of grove on the other. 

I must have a pergola, summer-house, cro- 
quet court, a garage, a well-made roadway, a 
dozen bird houses to be placed in the trees sur- 

20 



BEING LED 21 

rounding, one for our graceful umbrella-shaped 
little apple tree, before my front door. 

I knew everything would shape itself in a 
short period of time, — Time, that ever flattering 
thief of our natural lives, creeping so stealthily 
along our path, almost unobserved, before we 
are aware of its ravages. 

We cannot or do not wish to see the little 
creases, the settled features, the few silver strands 
peeping through the brown. 

Soon we meet an old friend, whom we have 
not seen for years. We rehearse our school days 
— our gala days — our matronly days. The same 
expression comes from our lips. I guess we are 
traveling faster than we thought. 

But, dear Reader, not till you have crossed, 
or passed the meridian of life are you upon the 
express train of Time. The weeks and days pass, 
comparatively, as we pass each little hamlet, 
brook and grove on a White Mountain express. 

Does it seem possible? Here we are to our 
moving day! That day; shall I ever forget it? 
I had collected, sorted, tied bundles, large and 



22 BEING LED 

small, filled trunks with curtains and hangings, 
bric-a-brac, carefully packed silverware, bedding, 
crockery, cooking utensils, table linen, tables and 
last, but not least, my phonograph. 

An electric van hired, and I in the middle of 
it, with two birds, my "Polly" (Loreta) and 
"Michael" (that's my dog) : The menagerie 
with the keeper," I exclaimed. 

Ail-aboard, we are off with a speed quite 
in advance of the old-fashioned moving van; 
over hills, down dales, quick turns, sudden 
lurches, everyone we met no doubt thinking me 
dispossessed. What a novel experience! 

A charming day, and great expectations fill- 
ing my mind, when the beautiful water met my 

view, then the mountains in the distance . 

My, here we are at the bridge; then another 
bridge, and the dear little white church with the 
green mounds at the back, so quiet and peaceful 
are those beneath them. This thought entered 
my mind : I wonder what you would say if you 
could speak about this modern vehicle of trans- 
portation, and its occupants. 



BEING LED 23 

Now we are passing the library, a little box- 
shaped building, with one window. Some one 
said it contained two books and a few magazines. 
I think that was slander. 

Over the hill to the country grocery store, 
another bridge, then a long hill, when, what's 

this I see? My little gray home in T , 

all finished waiting for its owner. 

How glad to reach my destination, so was 
the menagerie. 

I will not tell you more now, as there is so 
much to follow that will interest you, that you 
may read my book with hopes of reading it again, 
or passing it to a friend. If so, please remem- 
ber the title and the author. 

When you write to the librarian do not fol- 
low the example of the young woman who wrote 
as follows: "My dear Miss C, have you the 
book I read about a month ago ? I cannot recall 
the title or the author, but it had a blue cover 
with thistles all over it, quite fine print. I have 
also forgotten the number. I would so much like 
to have the book again." 



24 BEING LED 

"Free thyself from the wordly bond; es- 
cape from the prison of thy self and appreciate 
the value of the time, for thou shalt never see it 
again, nor shalt thou find a like opportunity." 



VI 
GETTING SETTLED 

IF THERE is one thing I enjoy more than an- 
other, it is turning chaos into order. Have 
you ever had your Horoscope read? I have, 
several times, once by an adept. She told me of 
so many characteristics, absolutely true, that I 
am inclined to think there is truth in it. One 
thing in particular she told me was this: My 
"hobby" is to arrange homes and make them 
pretty and attractive. I do love to plan and fuss, 
study blending of colors. The truth is, have my 
whole house furnished, in my mind, long before 
it is accomplished; and now another house. 

How shall I ever get all these trunks and 
boxes unpacked, all these windows cleaned; so 



BEING LED 25 

many things, huddled together in the living room. 
Well, here is my brother! Did you ever have a 
brother? I have had three, two are living this 
life, and one living the spiritual. 

Just let me say a few words about these 
brothers: I am the only girl of the family, but 
not spoiled. I do not believe "only girls" are 
always spoiled; on the contrary, they become 
very matronly, especially if they have two 
younger brothers. The care and thought for 
these little brothers, in her younger days, is an 
education and training she never forgets. My 
eldest brother left us just at that period of life, 
when a young father, with a little family of 
three, the youngest two years and a half old, 
leaving all his hopes and desires for them in this 
world unrealized. 

Our Lord provides a way, where one is taken 
and another left. 

It was the first break in our immediate family. 
"My eldest boy, the baby boy who came to me 
when I was only a girl mother," were my dear 
mother's words in her grief. A brave, unselfish, 



26 BEING LED 

ambitious young man passed from us. All the 
love and care we gave him could not keep him 
here. God took him. How sad it seems for the 
young and ambitious to go. The way was pro- 
vided for his family. 

My next brother, who by the way is the stu- 
dent of the family, and education his "hobby." 
He took this little two-and-a-half-year-old boy 
when his "Daddy" left us, now a lad of eighteen, 
as his protege. You must know a few letters 
that follow his name: L. L. D., P. H. D., etc. 

Did you ever hear of Elijah Jackson, the col- 
ored organ blower of an Episcopal church some- 
where in the South? He looked upon his posi- 
tion as professional, so wrote his name, "E. Jack- 
son, P. O. B." The rector asked him one day 
what these letters stood for. He answered, 
"Why, do'an you know what dey stan* for, Par- 
son?" "Why, no, Elijah, you will have to tell 
me." "Well, I jes tot dat you had *D. D.' after 
your name, and the Doctor, *M. D.\ Mr. Brown, 
the lawyer, 'LL.D.', and my position in dis here 
house of-de-Lord is an important one, and re- 
quires P.O.B. to follow it. 



BEING LED 27 

"Now, do'an you know what it stan's for? 
Well, 'Piscopal Organ Blower.' 

No reflection on my dear brother, whom we 
look to for all advice, and every bit of data for 
our family tree. 

I must tell you what his nephew told his uncle 
when he started to school at six years: 

"I'll go to school, Uncle B. and learn as fast 
as I can, but I do not think I'll study psychology." 

He is a bright young lad, now at Harvard, 
with a promising future, and I hope a comfort 
for his dear Uncle. 

You must hear of my baby brother. He 
came to us when I was sixteen ; that's why I seem 
a mother to him. A great six-footer, a jolly, 
good fellow, whose laugh and wit would do you 
good ; a Lafayette boy. College life changed him 
from a bashful, depending boy to a manly man, 
whose tender heart and loving disposition has 
surrounded him with many friends of both gend- 
ers. 

He is waiting to help me with all that goes 
with unpacking and settling. You should have 



28 BEING LED 

seen us hustle. It did not take long, with a na- 
tive woman to help us. In less than two or three 
days we were satisfied with our efforts; and or- 
der -was very near. 

I'm going to invite you in my next chapter, 
to see for yourself in imagination, this nest, this 
nook that I love. 

"Close one eye, and open the other; close 
one to the world and all that is therein, and open 
the other to the Holy Beauty of the Beloved." 



VII 
LITTLE HOUSE OF MY DREAMS 

"Oh, little house, with windows wide, 
A-looking toward the (sea) (Hills), 

How have you come? Why have you come 
To mean so much to me? 

Your walls within my heart are raised, 
And, Oh, how strange it seems. 

My hopes but measure to your roof. 
Oh, little house o' dreams. 



BEING LED 29 

Oh, little place where friends will come, 

The tangled world to flee. 
Brave little nook where peace will bide, 

And hospitality. 

Pray, where the magic wand I need 

To touch your slender beams, 
And change you to a home in truth. 

Oh, little house o* my dreams." 

It hardly seems possible that we have been 
located a month. Time flies when we are happy. 

It is the Fourth of July, the first month of 
my third season. Seems as though we had 
known each other longer. You seem to be so 
interested in my story to be so patient with the 
personal experiences, I think by the time I'm 
through, we shall be old friends. 

We worked like pioneers of the West, up- 
rooting trees, making paths and flower beds in 
different shapes, planting choice flowers, the 
bright red salvia along the front of the house, 
roses, sweet roses, the emblem of war and love; 
some boxwood and ivy brought from Mt. Vernon. 



30 BEING LED 

That reminds me of my visit to Washington, 
D. C, the Capitol of our country. Have you 
ever visited that city in the month of May? If 
not, try and do so. Of course it is one month 
in advance of our season, as to foliage and trees, 
those beautiful trees, so symmetrical as to size; 
the parks, circles, statues of our generals, the 
avenues of homes occupied and being occupied 
by the Diplomatic circle, our Representatives, the 
wonderful library, Pan-American building, D. A. 
R. building, museums. Our Capitol, the most 
imposing in the world, they say. 

Our sail down the Potomac to dear old Mount 
Vernon. How I love it. I think it must be the 
most beautiful spot in the world. We spent a 
day there, and what a day it was, replete with 
thoughts of our dear Washington, a man of taste 
and refinement, a love for the beautiful, as this 
land-mark shows. 

Walk through his garden, see the boxwood 
planted all in different designs. The old keeper 
says the General designed it and planted it. We 
met a civil engineer who was employed by the 



BEING LED 31 

Government some years ago to correct the slid- 
ing of the land into the Potomac. We were 
very much interested as he explained how the re- 
taining wall was built, and how our Mount Ver- 
non was saved for us. 

We gleaned much information as to where 
the stone for the pavement came from and how 
the oblong flat boards or shingles representing the 
shape of a white stone were made. 

Again we visited each room, always some- 
thing to see that had missed our eye previously. 

The beautiful walk to the tomb. I could 
spend hours there; such a hallowed spot, sur- 
rounded by the resting places of the family, which 
were protected by a fence of substantial material. 

The most important person was the Historian, 
an old darky whose face shines like patent 
leather. His manner that of extreme reverence; 
any questions answered. He is the last one of 
the family servants. This spirit of reverence is 
manifested by all tourists; hats removed and 
quietude prevails. 

We viewed the interior through grated doors. 
How we pictured those forms of General Wash- 



32 BEING LED 

ington and his beloved wife, Martha, that have 
lain there for so long a time. 

They are decorated with large wreaths, most 
beautiful, sent in advance by the Pan-American 
delegation, who are to visit Mount Vernon this 
day. What a mark of respect to the "Father of 
our country,'* we thought as we admired them. 

Hark! The signal; they are coming, and as 
we look through the vista of trees up that pictur- 
esque, winding river, we spy the "Mayflower" (so 
appropriately named) in the distance. Indeed 
it was a picture for an artist, just as the sun's 
shadows were lengthening, this graceful yacht 
making its way as fast as possible with its cargo 
of dignitaries. 

They could not land at the pier on account 
of the water being too shallow, but in mid-stream 
we watched the small boat fill and fill again until 
all had landed. 

Our warning had sounded; our time to sail 
had arrived and we sailed away, watching until 
we could just see the last group of trees, in turn- 
ing the bend of the river. 



BEING LED 33 

Then came the relating of our experience, 
enjoying at the same time, the late afternoon 
sail. The sun illuminating the western shore, its 
rays reflecting in the water, which is not as clear 
as our northern rivers. 

As we near the city the grand old Colonial 
Lee Homestead comes into view; another sacred 
and hallowed spot. 

Our Arlington! We spent Decoration Day 
there; such a treat to attend the exercises held 
by the Grand Army of the Republic in honor of 
the noble lives that were sacrificed in that cruel 
war. 

Here we are, about to land. I'm not sorry, 
as sight-seeing is tiresome, and we were feeling 
the need of another meal, even though we had 
done justice to the fried chicken and fresh straw- 
berries picked from the Mount Vernon garden, 
which were so large and luscious. 

Did you ever eat all the strawberries you 
wanted? Aren't they delicious as long as they 
last? 

We must not overlook our White House oc- 
cupied by our devoted President. 



34 BEING LED 

Where were we? Oh, yes, the remark was 
a general one, — that our grounds, so orderly and 
cultivated, new grown grass and shrubbery. 
They couldn't believe but we were old residents. 

How would you like to call at "Kumtoit?" 
How do you like the name? I thought it sounded 
Indian-like, and suggested hospitality. 

Before our Indian brothers were hunted and 
driven farther west this locality was an Indian 
reservation. Indeed the stories of old settlers 
are really graphic. Flint, relics, even strings of 
beads, arrow heads, etc., are excavated quite 
often. I'm so glad it is so. How historic! What 
a charm is added to "Kumtoit!" There is some- 
thing about an Indian I admire. Their ingenious- 
ness, their loyalty to their own, their secretive- 
ness. After the deceit practiced in robbing them 
of their own — or what seemed to be their own — 
can we blame them? 

However, I must say I prefer a wooden one 
at close range, and the only ones I do not like 
are the ones placed on the screen so often to fill 
in, especially when I attend the "Movies." 



BEING LED 35 

We shall turn in from the main road, then 
come with me ; in a few seconds we see the little 
brown sign with white letters, "Kumtoit," hung 
from a pretty cedar tree; then the path bordered 
by roses. 

About thirty feet back stands all you have 
heard about. The graceful little apple tree just 
in front of the front door. Now up the few 
steps to our Dutch door. Take particular notice 
of its long, flat hinges, knob and knocker of 
wrought iron. I know you would enjoy at any 
time to open the top half and recline on the lower, 
and, in a meditative mood, view the landscape 
o'er. 

What do you think of the living room? Isn't 
it a good size? The Dutch chimney and open 
fire-place, with a large blue platter and blue tile 
sunken into the plaster. Two steer horns 
mounted on dark blue plush at the top, a Dutch 
square clock, brass candlesticks, with starry 
prisms, the brass andirons, then the long French 
window, with the center one on hinges. 

Our China closet, tinted glass doors, the large 
door opening on the porch. We will go out the 



36 BEING LED 

other way to see the porch, as I would rather 
you would see that last, for you will feel like re- 
clining in one of our porch chairs or stretching 
yourself upon the hammock. 

Next, my old fashioned, round candle table, 
two hundred years old, covered with a Japanese 
cover, on its brass candlestick and brass samovar 
swinging on its swivel. These, by the way, all 
have to be kept shining. 

A large library table of mission oak fills one 
corner, a couch with soft downy pillows, another. 
Four large easy chairs, upholstered in leather. 
The walls are tinted cream and hangings are of 
old blue, with rug the same color. 

I shall not ask you to notice all my wall deco- 
rations, only these two pictures, this pastoral 
scene — "Sheep Grazing", with tints of the blue, 
gray and green, most peaceful, is it not? I can 
almost see those gentle sheep move. The other 
entitled "Welcome Guest.'* No doubt you have 
seen this before, as it is quite popular. A maiden 
beside a long French window, in Colonial times, 
turns shyly but smilingly toward the door to 



BEING LED 37 

greet the lover, who has opened the door ap- 
parently unheard. How surprised she appears, 
but, I think she was looking for him, don't you? 
You see my curtains are cream scrim, with 
blue border. This one door leads to our room, 
of "shell" pink walls, twin beds, with French 
flowered cretonne coverlets, a glass top dresser, 
stationery, some cretonne beneath the top ; three 
windows you see curtained with white and pink 
scrim curtains. Our two corner curtains are our 
closets. A pink rag rug covers the floor. 

The door beside this door enters our guest 
room. Wouldn't you like to stay over? I wager 
you would rest peacefully in this little room, 
with white and green lace curtains at each win- 
dow; green and white cretonne coverlet and cor- 
ner curtains; also the same under the glass top 
dresser, a green Mexican rug upon the floor, the 
cosiest, quietest room, and most comfortable bed 
you have ever tried. 

Our bathroom, a door from each bed-room 
leads to it; another glass-topped dresser, with 
blue and white cretonne beneath; all these dres- 



38 BEING LED 

sers have deep drawers, so you see we are not 
cramped for room. 

Our floors are all hardwood, and plastered 
walls. The bathroom is blue and white, blue 
rugs. 

Another door leads to the porch. You see 
here I have a high, white screen filled with French 
blue silk; it reaches from dresser to door, trans- 
forming this to a blue passageway to our porch. 

This is the crowning point of the whole affair ; 
don't you think so? 

Now rest a while and get your breath, either 
on the couch or the hammock, in one or the other 
of the large white wicker chairs, with cretonne 
cushions, and if you care to, draw it up to the 
round, white wicker corner table, filled with 
magazines and papers. How do you like the 
"Crex" rugs? They are the new green with the 
band border. Not a fly or mosquito can bother 
you, as you see it is all screened. 

Where is our dining room? Why, right here 
on this one side of the porch! Isn't it novel? 

Since I have done all the talking, just be 
"comfy" and I'll go to our small kitchenette at 



BEING LED 39 

the other end of the porch, only large enough for 
a cupboard, oil stove, table and sink. You will 
be surprised when I tell you we have a cellar, 
with a large tank, a force pump, and boiler, with 
oil heater. Just think of it, in the country with 
city conveniences! 

I will leave you here, in a retrospective mood. 
Look at the mountains in the distance. There's 
the summer-house. Just enjoy the scene, breath- 
ing this pure, soothing, mountain air. I'll meet 
you a little later, for I have much more to tell 
you, since you are my friend. 

"Consort with all people with love and fra- 
grance; fellowship is the cause of unity, and 
unity is the source of order in the world. Blessed 
are they who are kind and serve with love." 



VIII 
NIGHT AND MORNING 

PvON'T you think there is something entranc- 
*^ ing in the stillness of the starry or moonlight 
nights in God's country? Nothing to mar it, but 



40 BEING LED 

the singing of the crickets, the different notes 
that we hear in Bug Life ; its chorus of well modu- 
lated harmony, with an occasional obligato of 
the tree-toad or frog. 

Speaking of crickets, I love to hear the crick 
of the cricket. Have you ever watched one? 
Strange as it may seem, the sound comes from its 
wings. It's a good omen to hear one on your 
hearth. One evening when our lights were 
lighted and we were settled for our evening hour, 
a husky cricket began his song. It came from 
the fire-place. We tried to locate the songster. 
He wasn't on the hearth. Loreta, the "Polly", 
heard it, and in her plain English, said "What is 
it?" Really it was amusing. Eventually we 
located him just under the edge of the Dutch 
clock on the mantle. We did not disturb him, 
but let him sing to his heart's content. He stayed 
with us several evenings, and disappeared as 
mysteriously as he came. 

How cheery "Kumtoit" looks at evening 
time. The candles and lamps with colored 
shades, yellow in the large room, a rose one and 



BEING LED 41 

a green one for the porch, a wrought iron lan- 
tern with green and red glass, all blending in 
color. You can imagine the effect, that of an 
ideal stage setting. 

"Being Led" is the most entrancing part of 
life. We seem almost blind-folded to its beau- 
ties, until they burst upon us, kaleidoscopic trans- 
formations in Nature's sweet laws. 

This was our happy pastime, watching the 
glorious sunsets, never the same, with their beau- 
teous rays, of enhancing shades, through the 
cedars. 

To see fair Lunar, the thread-like silvery 
crescent in the west, so soon after the light of 
day disappears, whom we welcome as a friend 
that has left us for a while. How we try to catch 
the first glimpse over our right shoulder, always 
looking for good fortune; then we watch this 
young moon grow from quarter to three quarters, 
then the full grown moon, and as it climbs from 
the eastern horizon, doesn't its beauty and size 
allure us? The light reflected almost day. 

What creates in our minds a greater admira- 
tion for God's handiwork than a glorious moon- 



42 BEING LED 

light night? The starry firmament seems to fade 
when this opaque planet reflecting the light of 
the sun appears; but, when it disappears, these 
lights of the firmament are twinkling just the 
same. These heavenly bodies sang the music 
of the spheres long before individual discoverers 
were dreamed of. They will never grow old. 

How I love to study the heavens. Have you 
ever been South, far enough to see the southern 
cross ? And did you notice how near the canopy 
of heaven seemed on a starry night? 

The first experience of sleeping out of doors. 
Have you ever enjoyed it? My first was here 
on this porch, upon that comfortable couch. I 
will tell you a bit of it. 

As usual I was counting my blessings, as I 
always do at night-fall, realizing the comfort and 
abandon of rules and regulations of bungalow 
life. Then a retrospective mood crept over me, 
and I began to think of the only real Americans 
that had chosen this crest of the hills for their 
hunting ground. 

I could picture and almost see them moving 



BEING LED 43 

in their stealthy, crawling attitude, through the 
cedars; could hear their low monotone chatter, 
their war whoop and the wild unearthly shriek 
of the dance. I was glad to welcome the quiet, 
restful slumber; to forget all, even the Indians, 
the soothing sleep, undisturbed until the orb of 
day casts its streaks of light across the heavens, 
and the twitter of the feathered songsters an- 
nounce the coming of day. 

How faint that first little peep of awaking 
bird-life, then the twitter, and at last the song 
they love to sing on the wing. 

"Arise ye slumbering mortals, the day is here, 
with all its moments — minutes — hours to fill with 
varied occupations. Heed our call and catch the 
first glimpse of its glory." 

"At many a Dawn has the breeze of my Grace 
passed through thee, and found thee asleep upon 
the bed of neglect, and returning back, wept over 
thy condition." 



IX 
FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES 

THE object of life, or the object of making life, 
as we are doing daily, consists in the mould- 
ing of our nature, the evolving or unfolding of 
all its possibilities. Our Father has created us 
social creatures. The crowning work of His 
creation is Man. The crowning work of evolu- 
tion is the unfolding of the spirit within us, the 
realization of "Being Led." 

To recognize this glowing fire of God in our 
being is the center of the living spirit, which is 
Life, the reality. When the fire of the love of 
God glows with the warmth that He can give it, 
we cannot quench it with thoughts of distrust, 
doubt, prejudice, or bigotry. 

It so envelops us that we are unaware of its 
silent working. 

Launched upon the sea of Life in this bark 
of the Master Builder's own design we must re- 
alize that we are of a social construction, and as 

naturally as a duckling takes to water, so we look 

44 



BEING LED 45 

for friends. We hunger and thirst for congen- 
iality and happiness arising from true friendship. 

Have you ever had a true friend, the type 
I'll try to describe: One who knows all about 
you and loves you just the same, blind to the 
petty idiosyncracies of fickle Nature, just sees 
the good in you, censuring discreetly when 
needed, praising when deserved, a friend in need 
and deed, patiently listening to tales of woe, for- 
giving shortcomings, the word hastily spoken, 
the seeming slight; always the gold tried as by 
fire, sifted, weighed and not found wanting. 

If you have such a friend, fortunate are you. 
This warmth of love in your heart, all unheeded 
by you, radiates that acquaintanceship, and 
friendship comes so naturally that effort and con- 
ventionalism both disappear. A kind word, a 
deed of service, a sense of good in the heart for 
every one we meet, gives us courage to keep on 
searching for it with faith in those we meet and 
with it comes the crowning of our efforts and, 
lo, we have a friend. 

Our acquaintances at T were numer- 
ous. Our friends were many. I know your in- 



46 BEING LED 

terest is still keen enough to enjoy meeting some 
of them. 

The population of this little community is 
greatly increased in the summer season. Al- 
though I was never given to neighboring, I cer- 
tainly have enjoyed a friendly chat, a morning 
call, an afternoon tea, more in this village among 
the hills than anywhere else I can remember. 

Here, as in other hamlets, there are charac- 
ters we love to study, and away deep down un- 
der the seeming rough exterior we find the Light 
reflected. 

The country grocery store and post office 
combined is presided over by the most odd ap- 
pearing proprietor. His shock of red hair, un- 
cut and never covered by a hat, appears a Pader- 
ewski, and the store a Dickens' Curiosity Shop. 
But there is his wife who must have known his 
real self, one of the prettiest, bright-eyed women 
you would ever want to see, with a family of 
happy, rosy-cheeked children. 

Then George, the ice-man, a rough-spoken 
foreigner, enough money to retire, takes upon 



BEING LED 47 

himself the task of supplying ice to all the fam- 
ilies. If George fails us, we are without ice, even 
if we have torrid weather. He never presents 
a bill, just trusts to your honesty. His children 
would do honor to the most refined. 

"Farmer John" who lives a hermit's life, close 
as to saving just so much yearly from his crops, 
especially peaches. He never says a sentence 
without profanity. You would almost shrink 
from his unkempt appearance. Even he can be 
treated with kindness. 

We find that the heart is tender in spots and 
beats true- — if we listen for the beats. 

You must meet Mr. and Mrs. R , the 

first of my acquaintances. He is the village car- 
penter whose mild voice and manner bespeak 
a golden rule disposition. The wife, a Dickens 
character, in dress and manner. If you could 
hear her talk. The sound of her voice haunts 
me still. The words seem to echo as they roll 
from her tongue. You need not say one word 
if you so desire. Once in a while you feel like 
side-tracking her and try it ; when she admits she 
talks too much. 



48 BEING LED 

The kindliest, most hospitable of my near 
neighbors, affectionate and thoughtful; I forgot 
her weakness and saw only the strength of char- 
acter. 

How many there were, but, as usual, we had 
those who seemed to get very near our hearts by 
sympathy, corresponding tendencies, affinities as 
it were, so we have lasting friendships, made that 
season of "Being Led." One in particular who 
interested us so much through sympathy, who 
was regaining his mental activities after a season 
of gloom and despondency ; his true self, the real 
self was asserting itself so slowly. He could not 
realize it. 

I shall never forget the fine cut face, the beau- 
tiful smile, with teeth to envy, a head covered 
with snow-white hair, seemingly too young for it. 
His brown car, revelation in mechanism; we 
called it 'The Little Brown Jug.'* How we lis- 
tened for his " Hello w, Mother — How-de-do — 
folks. Hellow Mike, you old sport!" (That's 
my dog). 

Speaking of friends, have you ever owned a 
dog, an Irish terrier? No matter what kind he 



BEING LED 49 

may be, just a doggie, of no special make or 
breed. Have you ever looked into his eyes so 
soft and brown, as I have in "Michael's" eyes of 
intelligence, that tell me "I love you; I'll protect 
you." Who knows he belongs to you and no 
one else, and when you leave him for a day or so, 
cries and looks in every room to find you, and 
refuses to be comforted. How can you help lov- 
ing such a friend, and praise God for his lesser 
children. 

"In the garden of your heart plant only flow- 
ers of love; withdraw not from clinging to the 
Nightingale of love and yearning; esteem the 
friendship of the just, but withdraw both mind 
and hand from the company of the wicked." 



X 

MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS 

]\ /I OTHER. Was there ever a sweeter word? 
How I love it, and how I loved her. How 
I love the memory of her. We were as one — 
our thoughts, our hopes, our aims were one. I 
thought I could not live without her, and she the 



50 BEING LED 

same of me. We were inseparable; her secrets 
were mine, and mine hers. But I know she is 
now invested with spiritual power, so far ex- 
ceeding her power when here that they cannot 
even be compared. She was the kind of a mother 
who thought her children were never grown away 
from her care and advice. One of those moth- 
erly souls like an old mother hen, always con- 
cerned till we were all sheltered in the nest, cov- 
ered by her protecting wings of love. 

I thought when we were together I loved her 
dearly and served her as a true daughter, but 
since God took her I have thought how much 
more I could have done for her happiness. We 
become so used to the coddling of Mother that 
we are apt to forget until too late how much we 
owe her. 

I would not call her back to this world of 
suffering and adjustment. How I long to see 
her. How I grieve for the touch of her hand, 
the word of sympathy and comfort, that only she 
could give me. 

Her children call her blessed — always a 
friend to the friendless, a comfort and peace- 



BEING LED 51 

maker to all who came to her. God has her, 
and she is with those she loved so dearly. Never 
shall I forget her saying before she became de- 
lirious, "If I go, I shall wait for you." I firmly 
believe she is waiting until that time, when we 
shall be reunited. She is nearer than we imagine, 
but these eyes of ours are holden ; we cannot see 
her, but she is protecting, directing and leading 
us to our Father, who is ever waiting and watch- 
ing for every child to meet and greet them. 

I am a mother, too, of the dearest girl, who 
was the idol of "Grandma." She had two moth- 
ers, greatly blessed, don't you think? I was so 
young when she came to me that Mother stood 
sponsor, almost claiming ownership, and often 
Mother "Number One" became Mother "Number 
Two," Mother "Number One" would say "No" 
— Mother "Number Two" — "Yes," but grand- 
mothers are very, fine folks, the little boy said 
they let a chap do as he likes and don't worry 
about education. But this grandmother was not 
of that sort, for education of the best for us all 
was her chief aim. 



52 BEING LED 

Petting does not always spoil any more than 
sparing the rod, at any rate my little girl has* 
grown to be a womanly woman, her mother's 
companion, critic, adviser, and all combined. 
Sometimes I think I might be the child, so ma- 
ture does she try to be at times, and then again 
the cheery, mirthful, sunny child of the home. 

Mother's ideas are respected and our plans 
and arguments usually terminate for the good of 
us both. 

So mothers prepare daughters who in turn 
take their place. "Being Led" by a devout, cau- 
tious, loving mother is a child's greatest blessing. 
How we should appreciate it while we have her 
and brighten her days. The time comes all too 
soon when we would do so much if we could, but 
the opportunity is gone forever. 

"Mother O' Mine" is a song I love to hear 
sung. It describes the extent of a true mother's 
love. Even now on the other side her prayers 
and devotion are for you. I almost omitted tell- 
ing you our bungalow is a partnership affair, 
Daughter's and mine, and do you know, she is 



BEING LED 53 

so considerate of Mother's feelings, she allows 
me to call it mine. 

Oh, the content and peacefulness of a moth- 
er's mind when she has the confidence of her 
children, especially that of a daughter. 

"Greed must be abandoned, that thou may est 
find content; for the greedy has ever been de- 
prived, while the contented has ever been loved 
and esteemed." 



XI 
ENTERTAINING FRIENDS 

r\ ON'T you love to entertain? I do not mean 
in an elaborate manner, away beyond your 
means, but to have the open arms and heart to 
those who call us friend. Greetings of heart- 
felt response to the cordial hand-shake, the smile 
of sincerity, the grace and dignity of a thoughtful 
hostess. How apparently natural this all seemed 

at T . Our friends multiplied and they 

did seem to enjoy being at "Kumtoit." For they 



54 BEING LED 

came so often, not too often for us. We enjoyed 
the clever repartee, the jokes and stories, the 
cosy little repasts of soft drinks and cookies, the 
evening's selections on the phonograph, and — 
eleven o'clock came all too soon. 

Of course we gave our dance upon the cro- 
quet court. With grounds illuminated with Jap- 
anese lanterns, a very fairyland, they danced 
till early morn, all loth to leave. Oh, the straw 
rides, the marsh-mallow roasts on the mountain 
top, moonlight nights; auto rides, (musicales), 
week-end visits. 

The days that my dear friends from home, 
my other home, came to visit us. How they 
seemed to catch the inspiration of bungalow life. 
We dined, had our spiritual talk, then to the ob- 
servatory for the view. What a view it was! 
As far as the eye could see, the mountains and 
the valley, a farm here, another there, with 
patches of different shades of green, yellow and 
white, the farmers' fields of growing products, 
then the velvety green foliage of the mountains, 
the clear summer sky, — a day prepared especially 



BEING LED 55 

for our visitors; then the game of croquet, an 
almost relegated game, but there was merriment 
for us and so we had another game, just to train 
our dispositions. 

The day passed all too quickly. The crown- 
ing affair of the season was the * 'surprise party" 
to Mother, an old-fashioned one. I think when 
a surprise is a real one, there is so much satis- 
faction to those who are in the plot. This was 
a real one. How cautious all their schemes were, 
never to create a suspicion to their plans. 

I think they had an easy subject. Luckily, 
everything was in order. I was attired becom- 
ingly, having received callers through the day, 
when rap-rap-rap — from my little knocker. What ! 
Another caller? I opened the door and there 
stood Miss H., her sweet face wreathed in smiles, 
my six-foot brother just back of her. I was so 
glad to see them. Of course they said, "We 
came to spend the evening with you." When 
another tap — and another couple followed by a 
large party of young girls and boys, married 
and single ladies, couples in wedded bliss, who 



56 BEING LED 

filed in singly, with baskets and parcels enough 
for a number twice the size. 

"Hello, Mother!" came the familiar voice of 
Mr. S. "This is all my doings and it is your 
party!" They were all welcomed by me, with 
all the hospitality I could show. The only way 
I expressed my surprise was an almost hysterical 
laugh, which seemed contagious; they all joined 
me, so we began our festivities in a merry mood. 

The evening was a cool one in the early part 
of September. Does it seem possible — "Being 
Led" to the third season? 

How quickly the furniture was moved to the 
porch, that all lighted, a roaring fire on the hearth, 
candles burning everywhere. They danced by 
the light of the candles and fire. It was so ro- 
mantic, the music so entrancing that before I 
knew it, Mother was dancing, too. 

Then came the refreshment hour. The aroma 
of delicious coffee, cake of every kind, sand- 
wiches that melted in your mouth, and enough 
ice cream to go twice around. Another evening 
of mirth and gayety. I can hear the laughter and 
merriment still, and so the early morning took 



BEING LED 57 

them away and left us with another sweet mem- 
ory of our friends at T . 

What would we do without sweet memory? 
How it comes to us at all times at our bidding. 
Sometimes the sweetest moments and those of 
sadness and regret, revealing our gladdest and 
saddest days; which do we love most to recall? 
Our gladdest, I fear. 

" Verily I say the most negligent of the ser- 
vants is he who disputes and prefers himself to 
his brother; say, oh, brethren, adorn yourselves 
with deeds rather than words.*' 



XII 
AUTUMN DAYS 

PHE golden days of harvest are approaching. 
How swiftly they come. We feel the chilli- 
ness in the morning air, and watch the sun leave 
us so much sooner each day. These autumn 
sunsets are so varied and beautiful. Amber and 
blue, silver and dark blue, rose and gray, — we 
love to watch the blending of the tints. 



58 BEING LED 

What artist could compare with these color- 
ings of the Master Hand? As the sea changes 
its color each season of the year, and September 
finds it the deep peacock blue shades, so the 
mountains have a blue misty color about them, 
discerned from the distance. The sky seems of 
different appearance. The trees begin to pre- 
maturely shed their leaves as if they were feeling 
their age approaching. 

We hear the voice of the merry reaper as he 
passes by. The odor of new-mown hay and here 
and there see the hay mounds ready to be gar- 
nered, so we know ere long, mountain and valley 
and road will be glowing with all the varied 
tinted foliage, the warm red, the bright yellow, 
the russet and the evergreen, towering here and 
there to add a desired effect. 

The artist has never walked this earth who 
could equal these colorings, even the brush of 
adept, for these are the reality, and their's the 
mere copy. 

Our thoughts are turning homeward, and as 
we watch the dying embers of our cedar logs on 



BEING LED 59 

the hearth, after the bright colored flames shoot 
upward and light the whole room, as we gather 
about the fire-place these cool evenings, remem- 
bering again our time at T is short, pass- 
ing away, as these embers were bright and beau- 
tiful not very long since so were our days here, 
and as they pass on so must we. We have heard 
directly of an admirer of "Kumtoit" making in- 
quiry for the renting of it for the winter season. 
We were more than anxious to secure some one 
reliable, who would take it and enjoy it for the 
winter. But it must be the right party to pro- 
tect it from neglect and destruction. It was not 

long ere Mr. and Mrs. W were given the 

privilege. I know they are happy, and so are 
we to have them so. 

"Oh, Lord, I have turned my face to Thee. 
Enlighten it with the light of Thy face, and then 
protect it from turning to any but Thee.*' 



XIII 
RENOVATING AND MOVING 

HPHE days of autoing back and forth to our city 
home to renovate the interior. It needed it. 
The painter and decorator, and all new hardwood 
floors, selecting our paper for all the rooms, so 
much noise and nerve-wrecking work, that I was 
glad to leave it in the hands of reliable people. 
Going from top to bottom, transforming the old 
to the new, one hardly knew it. I am going to 
defer your visit to this home until our next sea- 
son, as I haven't the time to take you through. 

The thought of moving again haunts and wor- 
ries me some. I am so thankful we leave most 

everything of furniture at T , so it will 

not be half the trouble. I am getting anxious, 
too, for city life appeals to me as winter ap- 
proaches. I love this season, with all its pleas- 
ures, but it seems to be the season in which the 
great Reaper finds so much to do. Not only 
among the old, but the young and middle-aged 

are often His victims. I am pleased to tell you 

60 



BEING LED 61 

we are all packed, ready to start, waiting for the 
auto van of small dimensions, a friend's auto, 
and our own to take us as fast as they can. 

Our menagerie covered and strapped, all im- 
patient to go. I really believe they know what 
it all means, having had the same experience not 
long since. 

Here they are, and we are not sorry, as the 
clouds seem to look heavy and lowering. We 
would rather escape the sprinkle. Here are our 

tenants to bid us good bye, and Mrs. R 

has brought her "Polly" to say au revoir to "Lor- 
etta." What a sociable time these birds had 
talking to each other, so amusing to us all. 

Now we are going at a speedy gate over hills 
and bridges by the water's edge, through wind- 
ing roads, edged with the Autumn flowers of 
purple and gold ; pretty, but dusty, drooping and 
parched for the much-needed rain. 

Old Sol has refused to shine today, perhaps 
because we were leaving. 

Now we are on the smooth, beautiful road. 
Here everyone speeds, and we did, too — our cars 



62 BEING LED 

a small caravan. How dark the heavens are, es- 
pecially that one heavy cloud that seems to fol- 
low us. Oh, now we have turned, and think we 
have escaped the shower. Easy — careful — we 
are in the town and city where speeding is pro- 
hibited, and we must avoid arrest. 

Nearer and nearer we come, until we have 
reached our main avenue, where we live. Here 
we are, at two seventy-nine! That number of 
many multiples, the number that goes with my 
name to every stranger I meet. 

Safely carried, with all our traps, and ''Mi- 
chael'* just stepped into the door, knowing and 
feeling this was his old home. Loretta, the Polly, 
laughed and said "Hello/' So we are all here, 
ready to settle this domicile. I'm sure it will not 
take long, as we have several to help. I must 
tell you a secret. I do not feel as well as I might. 
This has been a tiresome undertaking. I have 
not hca the rect and quiet I anticipated. I'll keep 
up until we are all through; then I'll rest. 

"Rejoice not, if Fortune smiles upon thee; 
and if Humility overtake thee, mourn not, be- 



BEING LED 63 

cause of it, for in their time they shall cease and 
be no more.*' 



XIV 

SUNDAYS AND SHADOWS 

(~\F ALL the days of the week there is none I 
look for and welcome with all my heart and 
soul as the Sabbath. Whether it be the first day 
of the week or the last, it seems more fitting to 
be called the last. "Six days shalt thou labor, 
and rest the seventh." 

True, we live but today. Yesterday is gone 
and we never see tomorrow, for it is always to- 
day. How the golden moments melt into hours, 
hours into days, as we count them one by one. 
Do we realize they are as leaves in that book that 
tell the story of our life? Life, that spark of 
fire our Creator has shared so equally with His 
children. This Being whose beneficence is so 
great that the ordinary person accepts it as a mat- 
ter of course. We only need the recognition of 
the Spirit within to mirror forth the divine intelli- 
gence of the gratitude we owe our Father of all 



64 BEING LED 

good who showers His favors of mercy upon all 
mortals. He is the Lord of all mankind, the 
Ruler of the throne and dust. 

My Sabbaths are stepping stones to heaven. 
May they be yours ! The soft Sabbath calm upon 
earth and this world of humanity, the sweet 
chimes or the musical church bells calling "Come, 
Come, to the house of God, the meeting place of 
the saints, the shrine of all that's holy, where we 
may commune, spirit with spirit, until we feel the 
heavenly aspiration soaring to the Source of all 
Spirit, and the soul that consciousness of good 
within us throbs with the joy of Love, Faith and 
Hope." 

If you are blessed with one of the Lights of 
His face, as I am, you are rich indeed. The Rev. 

Dr. R is one of the noblemen of the 

Kingdom of heaven upon earth. A friend, a 
guide, a teacher with heart large enough to hold 
the trials, vexations and sorrows of all his flock, 
with a universal spirit of love for all, truly a great 
light and force in this day. 

Do you wonder I count the days, until the 
Sabbath, greeting it with fervor and zeal. When 



BEING LED 65 

the rest of the soul is realized, and we go forth 
with the benediction of peace, good will to man 
for the next six days, these days merging into the 
real Christian life, that of letting your light 
shine. 

Shadows are creeping about me — the power 
of resistance is getting less. Am I actually losing 
ground, physically? This wearing, nerve-wreck- 
ing pain ! I must consult a physician. Common 
sense tells me I have forgotten the first principles 
of health, have burdened my too-willing self with 
tasks unequal to strength, and I am paying the 
penalty. 

This "Americanitis" — of rushing and doing, 
grinding the mill without the power; the result 
is always the same. We wonder what is the 
cause; then call upon the wise physician, pay 
his bills, try his "dope" until the poisons refuse 
to digest. And our intuition, that serves us al- 
ways, if we revert to it, hastens to our aid, sug- 
gests we may need a change of air, salt air, a 
change of scene, diet, — to seek a reliable "Rest 
Cure" for mind and body. 

The decision was arrived at. The aversion 
for sanitoriums, going away from my own, with 



66 BEING LED 

strangers, all overcome. A two-weeks-stay would 
be the least time necessary for recovery. 1 leave 
in less than a week. 

"The source of all good is trust in God, obe- 
dience to His command, and satisfaction in His 
will." 



XV 

THE DAY AND TRIP 

THERE was a time when a stormy day would 
cast a gloom over my whole nature, a fret- 
fulness almost unavoidable, and I would wonder 
how I should pass the day. It suggested read- 
ing, answering letters, clearing bureau drawers 
and closets, some mending to do, and a few stock- 
ings to darn. This would often happen all in one 
day. 

After all, the rainy day has its mission. We 
accomplish so much in these days — really, we 
have a rainy day program, ready for use. 

Somehow that rainy day disposition of mine 
has all vanished as I am "Being Led.'* I wel- 
come it now, because I know the sun is shining 



BEING LED 67 

somewhere, and it is reflected from my heart. 
The shine is greater than the shadow. 

"It is not raining rain to me; 

It's raining violets. 
In each dimpled drop I see 

Wild flowers upon the hills. 
It's not raining rain to me, 

It's raining daffodils." 

and the power of thought does its work. 

I am unaware of clouds or rain. The day of 
my departure was all that a rainy day could be. 
The violets and daffodils were coming down in 
torrents. I left with suit-case, extra wraps, um- 
brella; couldn't have managed with any more. 
Reached the station, not waiting long for the 
through train. "Only two stops between here 
and A City," shouted the porter. 

On the train, with help of course, a good 
seat provided, some reading matter, then we be- 
gan to move. Soon the clickety-click of the train 
told us we are making some time. 

I managed to read one article referring to the 
religious division of Germany, that country which 
commands so much attention these days. It was 



68 BEING LED 

an interesting account, telling us that thirty-five 
per cent, of the Germans are Romanists, and the 
rest denominational Protestants and Free Think- 
ers. 

After reading, I became interested in a 
mother, opposite, with three children. Children 
always attract me. The mother, one of those 
motherly ones; the children were well-developed 
physically, and mentally, evidencing mother's 
trained development. 

The eldest, a girl, a couple of years difference 
between she and "brother," as they called him, 
and about two years between Brother and Rich- 
ard. The questions from and the answers to 
these bright offspring of modern days would fill 
a dictionary. It was, "Mother, what is the differ- 
ence between this and that?" and "Why is this 
so?" It was always the well modulated voice 
of patience very pronounced, "Well, my dear, 
so and so is the reason, and she would satisfy 
every whimsical question. 

After a while they became restless. Betty 
found her dolly, and Brother began teasing Rich- 
ard. Then I heard the soft, firm voice call, 



BEING LED 69 

4 'Brother, unless you behave and stop teasing 
Richard you will come beside me and remain.** 
Immediately he knew she meant what she said. 
And then it was "M-o-t-h-e-r ,will you allow us to 
sit over by that other window and see the water?** 
"Yes, if you know how to behave.** And so the 
time passed before I was hardly aware that I had 
reached my destination. 

I had learned several lessons on the way. 

Here we are, at A City. Now for the 

bus, and then to the hotel sanatorium. I was 
received and welcomed, shown my room — a 
hasty toilet, for dinner was being served. 

The first impression of a place is always my 
criterion. The beauty of decoration, furnish- 
ings, hangings, were all so plainly exquisite, so 
rich, the interior so brilliantly illuminated that 
with all my nervous tension and pain, I thought 
I had never witnessed so beautiful an exchange. 
I felt at home immediately, and my two weeks 
passed all too soon, with treatments afforded, and 
perfect care, I had almost forgotten I had any 
ailment. 

The most interesting part of my visit was the 



70 BEING LED 

meeting of different characters. I will tell you 
of a few, for there were so many. 

The first one I met at table. She was a self- 
satified, old maid; perhaps her illness made her 
so. Actually, she was afraid to smile. Oh, if 
you had seen me or heard me try to melt her icy 
demeanor. Almost urge her to break the mon- 
otony of silence, eating our meal without one 
word or a smile, with head down. 

I said to her in the sweetest tone I could com- 
mand: "Have you noticed that dear old lady 
with the curls about her face, her fancy dress; 
see, she has a red rose at her throat!" 

"I haven't any desire to look about the din- 
ing room!" 

Squelched! Thinking how can I stay at this 
table and remain a Christian. There were many 
other remarks quite as cold and severe, but the 
last was final. "Oh, Miss, I guess I did not get 
your name." Answer: "It does not make any 
difference what my name is." 

Another snow-ball. I knew if I didn't seek 
more congenial company at another table, I 
should add nervous indigestion to the rest of my 



BEING LED 71 

pains, for I was bolting my food with dis-ease. 

I was placed at another table, where the rest 
of my time was passed in gay repartee, delightful 
story-telling, a merry laugh from each one, con- 
ducive to good health, and long life. We wel- 
comed each meal for the pleasantry. 

There was the house matron, a study, for she 
seemed to think the smile was all that was neces- 
sary. Then Mr. F., the ministerial-looking man, 
sojourning to regain his lost health. Every time 
I met him he would explain to me how it hap- 
pened. 

"Twenty-five houses of my father's estate, 
eight of my own, to look after, and my store be- 
sides." 

The poor man certainly had a burden to carry 
and he burdened me relating it so often. At 
last one evening I could not refrain from saying, 
"But you know you only have one natural life 
to live, why not try and enjoy it? You cannot 
take all this material wealth with you when you 
leave this world." 

He did not tell me the story again. Perhaps 
he was thinking. 



72 BEING LED 

The little maiden lady from Washington. 
She was so fine and correct in her deportment, 
always the same patronizing manner. She knew 
Washington from A to Z; quite interesting, but 
so correct that her narrowness became irksome. 

The judge, from Pittsburgh, a nervous break- 
down, another unwise wise man. 

The sweet face and sweeter character of Miss 

M , from Toronto, the dearest companion 

of them all; so I could relate to you the meeting 
of so many who came and went. 

We would meet every clear morning in the 
solarium on the top floor of the building, for our 
sun bath. It has a porch running all around it; 
again in the afternoon to see the perfect sunset. 

Do you know, there is something about the 
ocean that creates majestic thoughts; it suggests 
grand, beautiful, powerful thoughts. 

Oh, the sunsets on the sea, the golden light 
shimmering over the rippling waves, not for- 
getting the sunrise. This golden light seems the 
golden opportunities awaiting us, and suggests 
the Light from the Sun of Truth, so filling us 
that material belongings fade to mere nothing- 
ness in comparison. 



BEING LED 73 

A little later along comes Mr. Moon. I be- 
lieve he is full again. We'll forgive him. It is 
not because he is weak that he becomes full ; it's 
a habit so old, that we have learned to admire 
him for it. 

I believe, I know I am better. This glorious 
spot, the cheerfulness of the maids, hallboys — 
and all in attendance, has become contagious, and 
I am smiling, exchanging pleasantries, being en- 
tertained, enjoying afternoon teas, and last, but 
not least, our feasts in the dining room. 

Do you wonder I am well again, ready to re- 
turn home and take up my duties, domestic and 
social, with renewed activity. 

Try a "Rest Cure" when you need one. I 
recommend it. 

"Reflect a little; hast thou ever heard of the 
Beloved and the stranger dwelling in the same 
heart? Therefore send away the stranger, so 
that the Beloved may enter His home." 



XVI 
HOME AGAIN 

LIOME, the sheltering arms of Love, Happi- 
ness, Comfort, and Hospitality; that's what 
my home is. I am here to receive you, dear 
reader. "Being Led" through experience of trial, 
sorrow, illness, loss, yet still "Being Led" by the 
All-knowing to this fourth season of winter, to 
dwell in this little haven of physical rest. 

I am so happy to have met you. I feel we 
know each other better than when we first met. 
Come right in and be seated in our reception 
room — not over large. To make you more ob- 
serving, I'll mention what my home contains. 

You see the hangings at doors are old blue; 
the sofa and easy chairs the same shade of velour, 
re-upholstered, for they are slightly antique to 
us. My lovely Weber upright piano and oil 
paintings, large and small, have been with me for 
years. My cream lace curtains, with colored 
Oriental inside-curtains. There are my Turkish 
rugs, collected when I was faddish ; the cream sa- 
tin wall paper, with old blue, my favorite colors. 

74 



BEING LED 75 

You will admire my dining room — old blue pa- 
per with conventional cut border, cream tinted 
shadow lamp, English oak furniture, my glass 
top to my dining table. You see I have the col- 
ors reversed from parlor, cream paper and blue 
decoration; here blue paper and cream decora- 
tion. 

Here is my stained glass window, when the 
sun penetrates reflecting all the tints of cream, 
green and opaline. 

Our "grandfather's" clock, an heir-loom. Do 
you know I cannot have too many mirrors. They, 
too, suggest thought, that of our lives reflecting 
the light, shed upon them from heaven. Did you 
notice my large mirror in the hall, and the one 
over each mantel. 

Now, out to my dear kitchen. I love it as I 
do my parlor. Blue-green painted walls and 
wood-work. Linoleum to match, you would 
think a part of my parquet floors. Strange how 
I followed the color scheme in the kitchen; the 
walls are the shade of Loretta (Polly), the floors 
of "Michael" the dog. The dog is such a pretty 
shade of tan yellow. 



76 BEING LED 

Come to my next floor. Be careful going 
up-stairs. I'll light the electrolier and you will 
see better. The three walls have same paper, 
brown mottled, with a conventional stripe of gilt, 
and red, with a small red and gilt figure here and 
there. Everyone admires it. Don't you? 

Right in my living room, please. My library, 
sanctum-sanctorium, where I love to meditate, 
plan, scheme, and write. You see my floors 
are all alike; they save so much work. This pa- 
per, you see, is brown, a frieze of rose-colored 
fleur-de-lis and small flags, ivory white trim. Do 
you like my tan, green and woody brown window 
curtains, with cream lace next to the window? 
Did you notice I have four very large windows, 
one facing the Southwest. Wouldn't I love to 
tell you the history of each picture in this room. 
I call them my friends. How they inspire our 
thoughts as dear friends do. 

My phonograph, my own Dutch mahogany 
writing desk, the heavy antique mahogany cen- 
ter table, with the shadow light above it. 

This old fashioned gilt mirror over the mantel, 
an antique I love. 



BEING LED 77 

What do you think of my great big Indian 
head and bust? Painted in oil, these beads of 
different color, I fastened around his neck. He 
is life-size, and profile. The vision of that face 
speaks almost audibly the power and strength of 
their character. 

I almost forgot to introduce you to my friends 
in the book-cases. Some day come and help 
yourself to their contents. 

Now in my room notice the white satin striped 
paper with its border of pink roses, not very 
large. I chose the small ones. You will notice 
my beautiful brass bed, my mahogany dresser 
and dressing bureau. See this old fashioned 
mahogany and gilt mirror, three mirrors in this 
room. My rose and green rugs, the curtains are 
white scrim, with rose border, the hangings deli- 
cate Dresden and green stripe. I call this my 
Rizwan, my rose garden. 

This is my daughter's room, another room 
just like mine, but smaller, same decorations, 
with white furniture and brass bed. I call this 
room the "sea shell," and she the pearl within. 

My dear bath room, small, but so convenient. 



78 BEING LED 

When we know "cleanliness is next to Godli- 
ness." This is white and blue. 

Upstairs again to my front guest chamber, in 
yellow and white hangings, ivory satin striped 
paper with yellow, rose border, twin brass beds. 

Did you notice the large old fashioned ma- 
hogany bureau in the hall; that I had polished. 
That was my great-grandmother's first bureau. 
The glass knobs are so decorative. 

That mahogany Chippendale table in the 
guest room, brought from Holland, over a hun- 
dred years ago; isn't it polished well? This is 
the only place I have for it to stand. 

Father's room next. I have not spoken of 
him before, for I thought it appropriate to leave 
him till last. The last is the best of all — and 
Father will receive us, and show us his room. 
It's a large, light, quiet room, with such pretty 
paper, and he has all his old fashioned furniture. 
The pictures of his family, long since gone; his 
books, his desk, and everything just as he wants 
it. His hair-cloth couch where he rests each day, 
for he is eighty-three years old, and is tottering 
down the path of life — all too soon for me, for 



BEING LED 79 

as long as I have him, I have a sense of security 
and comfort so natural to a child; typical of the 
Father who shelters and provides and cares for 
us, whether we realize it or not. He is always 
our Father, awaiting our return home. 

And now, dear reader, I am almost at the end 
of my story, still "Being Led" through truth and 
love from a heart sincere, giving you this mes- 
sage, which I will leave with you. 

There is a great Light in the world, the glory 
of the Fatherhood of God, which prophets of old 
said would be manifested in the fullness of time, 
and the books would be unsealed. It has ap- 
peared in this country ; this Day of God, this end 
of the age, of this dispensation. It was prophe- 
sied that the Christ Spirit would return in the 
glory of the Father. 

It did return in the year Eighteen Hundred 
and Forty-four, Solar Time, Twelve Hundred and 
Sixty, Lunar, both corresponding, proclaiming 
the oneness of God and Humanity, and the one- 
ness of nations and religions. 

We must overcome all prejudice, racial, re- 
ligious and political, and proclaim Unity in Love, 



80 BEING LED 

Peace and Harmony at this dawn of the Millen- 
nium. 

Where did this appear? In the East — the 
Holy Land — . Read your prophesies, turn your 
face to the East and recognize the Centre of the 
Covenant; not a new religion, but the old re- 
ligion renewed, as it always has been and is now. 

This Light of Glory is for all the world, all 
mankind, who are God's progeny, and who says 
4 'Every knee shall bow to me!" 

May you seek and find this essence of the 
Truth; it is for you. 

GOD— LIGHT. 
"ALWAYS" 

4 'I pray the prayer the Easterners do: 

*May the peace of Allah abide with you.' 

Wherever you stay, wherever you go, 
May the beautiful palms of Allah grow." 

'Through days of labor, and nights of rest, 

The love of good Allah make you blest ; 
So I touch my heart, as the Easterners do, 
May the peace of Allah abide with you." 



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